It’s hard to believe, but this month is nearly at an end. December is a mere 5 days away.
The longest night of the year.
The beginning of the depths of winter.
It has been an exceptionally rough Fall this year. For me, anyway. I’ve had what I think is more than my fair share of trials and tribulations. That may sound like whining, but I’m being honest when I say it’s been a helluva long haul. And it ain’t over yet.
Oh, no. There’s still plenty coming my way. Only now, I’ve managed to gain a modicum of perspective and I think I’ll manage to get myself through without too much trouble. (That’s my fervent hope, anyway.)
I’ve had help from those nearest and dearest who have listened, talked, calmed and helped me see that it isn’t as bleak as I sometimes paint, and when I’ve felt that I’ve painted myself into a corner they’ve been there with the rags and the thinner to help show me the way out. I truly am blessed.
Sometimes, it’s easy to lose your perspective. Easy to give into the dark thoughts and fears that wait for the times when you’re feeling weak and vulnerable. But, with perseverance and love and kindness, eventually you’ll see that all the good, joyful, wonderful bits that make life bearable are still there and that they can overcome your fears and insecurities.
I don’t know why, really, it was so hard for me this year. Usually, I’m pretty tough. I can take just about anything and bounce back ready to fight. But this time around. . .
. . .I don’t know. The fight seemed to go out of me. I’m tired of fighting, I guess. And that confused the hell out of me. Because if I’m not ready to fight, then what am I to do?
I know what I want to do — and that is simply just to be. I want to relax in the evenings and bake cookies if I feel like it. I want to go out for leisurely strolls in the cold winter evenings, even though I hate the cold.
I want to curl up on the couch and read. Pick up the crochet book and the yarn I bought. I want to rearrange my bedroom. I want to wander over and see what my grandkids are up to and then wander back home and have a hot cup of tea and go to bed.
But right now I’m not capable of any of that. Right now I’m simply rallying. Rallying my defences — physical, mental and emotional. And that is taking a lot out of me. Slowly, slowly I’m beginning to feel strong again, a little bit of the fight in me is showing through again. It won’t, I don’t think, ever come fully back. And that, I believe, is because I won’t let it.
It’s time for me to take care of me. There’s only so much of yourself that you can give away before something inside you gives way. It’s been a tough lesson, one I would have thought I was too old to learn.
Apparently I was wrong.
I’m hoping that my mind is a little clearer a little more free again and that one of these days I’ll start writing something besides these angsty, self-analysis posts. Until then, thanks to everyone who has continued to check in on my meagre and sporadic offerings.